


Under Cover and Under Attack

by ShakeThatCocktail



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, BAMF!Stiles, Blood, Death, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fluff, Hunter!Stiles, Hunters, Injury, Lazy Mornings, M/M, Marking, Post-season3A!AU, Reluctant!Derek, Sarcasm, Sheriff Stilinski is a Good Dad, Smut, Stiles Is Seventeen, Stiles has guns, Stiles is stuck, SweatyShirtless!Stiles, To save the Hale pack, Training, Undercover operation, Unwelcome Advances, Worry, awkward moments, sterek, warning
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-03-06
Updated: 2014-04-09
Packaged: 2018-01-14 19:10:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,315
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1277659
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShakeThatCocktail/pseuds/ShakeThatCocktail
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A new threat is coming towards the Hale Pack- an infamous band of Hunters, known for their hostility and violence. The only way for them to survive the oncoming attack is to go undercover. Stiles is their only choice, and the intense process of changing him from Pack researcher and Alpha Mate to healed-scarred Hunter begins. Everything goes well, until one night, and Derek and Stiles' hearts are put in the line of fire...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Lazy Mornings Come with Warnings

**Author's Note:**

> I came up with this during a Spanish lesson and i really liked it. I hope you enjoy it, and if you have any ideas or things you'd like to happen, I'd be more than happy for you to comment and I'll see :)
> 
> Enjoy :) xxxx

Derek liked the sleepy side of Stiles. Soft skin burnished by the rising sun, moles standing out, lips pouted, and hair flat against his head from pressure. Long lashes cast shadows across his cheekbones, and his long legs were entertwined with Derek's. These were the moments Derek savoured above everything else; the moments Derek could pretend they were two regular humans enjoing a lazy summer morning in bed together. These were the moments when he was more human than wolf, his senses dulled to human levels, enjoing what Stiles felt. That was only a problem when Chris Argent burst in on them.

The pair were wrapped up in one another's arms, hips devoid of clothing and shifting against each other. Small, soft curses were whispered against lips and langorous kisses were shared. Stiles loved the feeling of Derek's stubble against his neck and cheeks, and he looked forward to the satisfying sight of a red burn over his skin in the mirror. "Why can't everyday be like this?" he sighed against Derek's jaw, placing kitten licks along it.

"It's been quiet lately, Stiles," Derek replied, slowly raking his fingers through Stiles' hair. "Maybe it's all over." Stiles rumbled a laugh against his skin, and Derek rewarded the sensation with a buck of his hips. Stiles let out a pleased groan, rolling Derek onto his back and plastering his torso to his, leaning his chin on one hand while the other traced shapes on Derek's pectoral.

"We live in Beacon Hills, Derek," Stiles said, as if that was the answer to everything. "It'll never be over." Derek hummed and pushed himself up, forcing Stiles back until the teen as straddling a pair of muscled thighs clad only in a pair of black briefs. Derek kissed a revernt trail up Stiles' toned and lithe torso, catching moles with the tip of his tongue. Stiles' breathing hitched and his body shifted, letting the last few tatters of the black sheets slip from his body and bare everything to Derek. Patches of skin across his hips and chest were flushed pink, a few bitemarks were littered over his thighs and, capturing all of Derek's attention, was Stiles' hard cock. It was long than his own, but slimmer, with a thick vein running along the underside and a smatter of moles along it. A short, trimmed bush of dark hair ringed the bottom, a pleasing contrast with the reddening tip that was leaking liberally. The first time he'd seen it, he'd stared so long that Stiles had started to reach for his boxers before Derek pinned his wrists above him and made him cum so hard that he saw stars. Placing a warm, steady hand on his hip, Derek's other hand closed loosely around Stiles' cock, and his Mate immediately bucked into it, a whine escaping his lips. When the hand began to pump slowly, Stiles' eyes fluttered shut and he tilted his head back, Adam's apple bobbing before Derek's eyes like a taunt. Derek's eyes started to bleed red, mouth hanging open and placing sloppy kisses along heated skin.

Stiles bucks started to become a little more erratic, and small, broken noises escaped his throat. "Der-Der-Derek, I'm gonna-" he began, but Derek placed his lips over Stiles', not in a kiss, but just intimate contact.

"Cum for me," he whispered, voice rough and breathy, and with one more stroke Stiles forehead pressed against Derek's and a choked half-cry half-whimper spilled from his lips, like the cum that covered Derek's fist and both their abdomens. Hot, wet breath fanned over his neck, and Derek's hand smoothed over the cobbles of Stiles' spine through his skin. His body was oversensitized and his senses clouded with the scent of his Mate's arousal, sweat and adoration. He was so caught up that he didn't notice the sounds of the door to his loft opening or the two pairs of boots appraoching the door.

"Derek, we gotta-" Chris Argent began, opening the door in all his dark clothes and weapons, Isaac behind him. He stopped in the doorway out of surprise at the naked werewolf and teenager. Stiles, shocked out of his blissful, post-orgasmic haze, grabbed a handful of sheet before tipping himself off of Derek's lap, and bed, and falling to the hidden half of the floor on the other side of the bed.

"Hey, Mr Argent! Hi, Isaac!" he called out, raising a hand in greeting that was only just visible above the matress. Chris stared down at the floor and raised a hand back, Isaac sending a little wave over the larger man's shoulder.

"Hello, Stiles." Turning his attention back to the werewolf, who was now shrugging on a pair of sweatpants and trying to dampen his erection. "Derek, we need to get you and Stiles to our house. Something's come up." The werewolf recognised Chris' warning voice, and something spiked its way through his heart.

"What is it?" Stiles asked, popping up on the other side of the room, boxers and jeans now present of his half-naked body.

"We'll explain it when we get to Allison's house. It's pretty major," Isaac said, popping up over Chris' shoulder. "The rest of the pack are already there." Derek nodded and flung Stiles' shirt to him from across the room. Stiles caught it one-handed and slipped it on, fingers catching bitemarks across his torso as he buttoned it up.

"We'll follow you over," Derek said as Stiles climbed his way over the mess of sheets on the bed so he could stand beside his Mate. Chris nodded and backed out of the room, closing the door behind him. Pointing his thumb over his shoulder at the door, he asked Isaac,

"How long has that been happening?"

Isaac pouted thoughtfull, tilting his head to the side, before replying, "A month or two?"

Chris grunted and walked to the front door.

\---V---V---

Scott grinned cheekily at Derek when the pair filed into the Argent's study. Derek saw it and frowned at him.

"What?" he asked, in his typical Sourwolf manner. Scott's grin got bigger. "What?" he repeated, voice gruffer.

"You stink of Stiles," Scott giggled, and Stiles smacked him upside the head. Scott snorted and made his way to stand over by his girlfriend, Kira, who held his hand and gave him a cute little squeeze. Stiles bumped his shoulder with Derek's forearm, offering up a small smile to his Alpha. Derek shot one back down at him and bumped back. Turning his attention away from his Mate, Derek looked over at Chris, who'd seated himself behind his desk.

"So, what's come up?"


	2. War Council

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Pack learn of the new threat...

The vaguely light-hearted tone of the room dropped like a boulder in the ocean when Derek asked his question, and everyone turned to the Argents, Allison looking at her father expectantly. The elder Argent's face fell and he leaned back in his chair, hand scraping over his stubble. He looked like he was deep in thought, suddenly forgetting that the room was filled with werewolves, a Mate, a banshee and a kitsune.

"Dad?" Allison prompted, shaking her father's shoulder. The man jolted, but stayed composed as he began to speak again.

"I received a message from a contact up north in New York early this morning, that The Defang are coming." Beside him, Stiles felt Derek stiffen and a growl begin to rumble in his chest. A soothing hand immediatley fell on the Alpha's arm.

"What's the matter?" he asked, and Chris cast his gaze over at Derek and nodded solemnly.

"I take it you've heard of them, Derek?" he asked, and Derek nodded.

"My mother told me and Laura about them before the fire. She told us they were dangerous people and we should stay as far away from them as possible," he said, remembering the night Talia had sat down all the mature members of the Hale Pack and talked to them about The Defang.

Scott raised his hand, as if asking for permission to speak, and a little smile tugged at the corners of Kira and Allison's mouths, despite the severity of the situation. "Who're The Defang?" he asked, afraid of sounding childish. _You're the True Alpha, Scott- man up!_ Chris beat Derek to it.

"The Defang are a group of 'elite' Hunters who travel the country taking out werewolf packs. When I first started my training, my father, Kate and I went to visit them up near Wisconsin. I've never seen any group of people fight with that much ferocity against one another in training. If it hadn't been for my family, I would've high-tailed it out of there and prayed to God that I'd never cross paths with them again," he said.

"No such luck, then," Stiles snorted, arms folded across his chest, and Chris grunted.

"We can only assume," Chris began, "that if they're coming this way, they mean to destroy this pack." Everyone stiffened at the notion, Stiles and Derek the most. "We need to be prepared. If they mean to destroy us, then we must expect a battle."

"You want us to come up with a battle strategy?" Lydia asked, shifting from one foot to the other in front of the bookcase. She'd clearly been called out of bed- her hair was pulled back in a tousled ponytail, she wore no makeup, and she was wearing a pair of flannel pyjama pants with a baggy crop top. Lydia would _never_ be seen in those outside of her house. Aiden was in an equal state of disaray beside her, his shirt flaps buttoned up unevenly.

"With the right help and training, we would be able to fend them off. We dealt with the Alpha pack..but these guys, when they get going...they're even worse," Chris said.

"Oh shit," Isaac said quietly, shuffling closer to Allison. His girlfriend wound an arm around his waist and pulled him closer. Chris gave them a hard look out of the corner of his eye. He still wasn't happy about Allison's choice, and he'd tried to talk her out of it, but he should've known she'd inherit her mother's stubborn nature.

"My contact's message said something else. He's part of the Defang, but only undercover. His father sent him there to get the best training he could, but he doesn't want to kill anyone. He says they're planning something. Something _big_ , but if we want to find out what it is, then we need to go undercover ourselves to find it out. My friend has already done enough to almost get himself killed," Chris said, and the room was stunned into silence that they were getting their news from an informer. It was so Machiavellian that Stiles would've made a snarky remark, but the tone of the room dampened his tongue.

"You mean one us has to join them in order to find out what's gonna happen to us?" Kira asked, sounding shocked, and a little more scared. Chris nodded, his hard eyes solemn.

"Who's gonna do that?" Ethan asked, and everyone in the room turned to look at him, if just realising he was there. It was strange not to see him without Danny's hand in his and a big loved-up grin on his face, but when it came down to werewolf business, he followed his brother blindly. Everyone in the room cast looks at each other, trying to determine who it would be. Lydia was the one who cut the tense silence.

"Okay," she said. "We can rule out all the werewolves in the room, and the Argents. Since they're coming here just for the Pack, and all the other Hunters know you're here, they clearly have no respect for you, right?" she asked, counting down on her fingers. Chris nodded.

"Most of the other Hunter communities will have nothing to do with us because we work with you," he said. Lydia nodded in affirmation, turning her back on the man and scanning the room.

"That leaves me, Kira, and Stiles to do it," she said finally, chewing on her lip.

"Hang on, Kira's got no control over her powers yet," Scott said, defending the girl and squeezing her hand. "What if something happens and she's exposed?" Kira looked up and gave Scott a grateful smile.

"Fair point, Scott," Lydia said. "That leaves me and Stiles, then." The two teenagers looked at each other, and unsure look in both their eyes.

"I'll do it," Stiles said, drawing himself up to full height. "I don't have any special powers that need protecting." Derek growled and wrapped his arms around Stiles' waist, dragging him back against his hard body.

"You need _my_ protection. You're _my_ Mate," he growled, sucking a mark into the base of Stiles' neck. He squirmed a little, wary of their audience.

"Later, Derek. And I'm the only one who can do this with the lowest risk of being exposed to anything other than being a werewolf's Mate," he said, finally getting free of the handsy animagus and ignoring the hot, wet spot on the side of his neck. Derek grumbled in his chest.

"Stiles is right, but we have one problem," Chris said. Stiles raised a questioning eyebrow. _What?_ "You can't fight your way out of a paper bag." The whole room laughed, even Derek gave a little chuckle, but was soon shut up by a hand to the chest.

"Then train me. I've run with a pack of wolves for the past two years, not to mention I have to deal with one in my bed every night, so I should know a little something," Stiles said once the laughter had died down.

"How long until they get here, Dad?" Allison asked, her eyes wandering over Stiles body in such a critical and calculating way that it almost made Stiles want to hide behind Derek.

"My informant said, and this only based on what he's heard in meetings and his own assumptions, 3 to 4 weeks," Chris said, his own eyes taking a similar path to his daughter's.

"I think that's enough time," Allison said, and everyone looked at Stiles. The boy suddenly felt cornered, unfamiliar, even when he was leaning back against the warmth of his Mate.

"Enough time for what?" he asked, looking at the two Argents. Allison smirked slightly, and Stiles suddenly felt very, very vulnerable.

"To turn you into a Hunter."


	3. Training

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Three times Stiles fell on his ass, and the one time he didn't....

"C'mon, Stiles! At least try!" Allison groaned from beside him. Stiles sighed as he dropped the arm holding the crossbow from eye level, watching the arrow he let loose fly off into the treeline, completely missing the target Allison had set up on the tree. They were on the edge of the grounds out front of the half-renovated Hale house, where Allison had set up various targets on trees for Stiles to practise on. It was two days after they'd learned of their new threat, and Stiles had wanted to start as soon as possible.

"I am trying!" he said, exasperated. Using the back of his hand, he wiped away the thin sheen of sweat on his forehead and upper lip that the hot summer's day was making.

"Well, try _harder_!" Allison said. "You just need to focus more." She fell onto the grass beside him and began kneading her knuckles into the bare feet of her underfoot. Stiles gave her a burning gold, withering look.

"Do I look like a frigging ginger Disney princess to you?" he asked, reloading the crossbow just how Allison had shown him. Allison smirked a little.

"Yes, you do, Stiles. So, look at your target and _focus_ ," she said. Sighing, Stiles closed his eyes and drew in a deep breath, raising the crossbow. He tried to block out the sounds of the rest of the pack training behind him, the sensation of the sun burning through his t-shirt, the light breeze rustling through the trees, and his finger pulled the trigger back. Both of them groaned as the arrow went wide again, and Allison flopped backwards onto the grass, legs still crossed. "I think that's enough with the crossbow today," she said, pushing herself back up onto her feet. "I'll go grab Scott so you can start hand-to-hand." Stiles watched the girl walk off and twanged the string of the bow with his fingertip.

"Not going so well, is it Stiles?" a voice asked in front of him, and Stiles looked up to see Peter coming out of the treeline, a small collection of arrows in his fist. A smirk tugged at the angles of his handsome face.

"Looks like you've got the answer in the palm of your hand, Creeperwolf," he said, taking the arrows from the elder Hale and replacing them in the pouch on the belt that was lying on the floor.

"Do you really think you'll be able to defend our little pack, Stiles? These Hunters are worse than what ever Gerard and his men were." Stiles was sure he could detend a little bit of worry in his voice, and he straightened up, lips in a straight line.

"You've never doubted me before, Peter. Please don't now when I need it," he said. Peter nodded once and moved away when Scott came over, shirt MIA, grinning.

"You ready to go, dude?" he asked, bouncing up and down. His hair was stuck to his head with heat and sweat, but he didn't look out of breath at all. Stiles kinda missed the days where Scott had to keep his inhaler with him incase of an oncoming asthma attack or a girl talked to him.

"Yeah, I'm ready," Stiles replied, copying Scott's fighting stance.

\---V---V---

"Scott, get off me, man!" Stiles said, pummeling his fists into his best friend's thighs. Hand-to-hand wasn't going well for him. He'd met the ground more times than Scott had met his fists, and he was sure he had bruises blooming all over his shoulders and arse. Scott and he had been locked in a tight embrace, but with his werewolf strength, Scott was able to hook his leg around Stiles' and knock him off balance, perching neatly on him once he'd hit the floor.

"C'mon, dude! You need to try!" Scott said, rolling off him and letting Stiles catch his breath. After a few moments, Stiles pushed himself up and held out a hand to Scott.

"Let's go again."

\---V---V---

"You need to keep a firm grip on the handle, but need it to be loose enough for you to free your wrist to any movement," Kira said, demonstrating her words with a few fatal swishes of her katana. Stiles eyes went wide as he looked down at the two-foot long sword in his hand. "Think you can do that?" she asked, and Stiles looked up at her.

"Yeah, I think I can do that," he replied.

A few moments later and Stiles was screaming at Isaac to run as the katana flipped from his grasp and made a beeline towards the young Beta. He narrowly avoided it, giving Stiles a wide-eyed, shocked look.

"Maybe the katana isn't for you," Kira said, wincing as the blade sliced into the earth and stopped. Stiles shoulders sagged.

\---V---V---

"You alright?" Derek asked, sitting down beside his Mate on the porch steps of the house. He smelt depressed and frustrated, two things Derek had hoped would disappear once they were bonded.

"No," Stiles said, leaning against him. Derek wrapped an arm around his shoulders and pulled him closer, placing a kiss on his sweaty head. The two of them watched the pack train; the puppies bowling over each other and landing punches, Lydia sat under the shade of a tree with her headphones in and a dusty old book open on her lap, and Kira giving a tutorial in the katana to Allison. She handled it so much better than Stiles had. "How am I supposed to defend all this, Derek? I can hard hit a piece of paper with an arrow, I almost cut Isaac's arm off with a flying sword, and Scott completely did one over on me," he sighed, tears threatening to spill over

"You're not doing this to protect _us_ , Stiles. You're doing this to protect _you_. Once you make contact with the Defang, they're gonna test you, and you need to pass or they'll think something is wrong," Derek said. Standing up, he jumped onto the grass and held his hand out for Stiles. Stiles took it warily and followed Derek to a weapons rack, which seemed to hold various lengths of stick. Derek picked two and threw one to Stiles, who caught it with a minimum amount of flailing. He ran a hand up and down it, tracing the patterns carved into the wood in such a way that it had Derek salivating at the mouth.

"What's this for?" Stiles asked, looking up, taking in Derek's blown wide pupils. A smirk tugged at the corner of his lips and he tapped his fingers along it, holding eye contact with him.

"I'm gonna teach you how to stick fight," Derek said, swallowing heavily.

"I thought we did that last night?" Stiles asked, and he laughed at the rumble that started to coalese in Derek's chest. "I'm teasing, Derek," he said, and Derek stepped closer, wrapping his arms around him and burying his face in the soft skin of Stiles' neck.

"Save the teasing for later when I can do something about it," he growled, tugging on Stiles' earlobe with his teeth, and Stiles felt himself go weak at the knees and a groan escape his mouth.

"Okay," he said, breathless, as Derek stepped away. He whined when Derek took off his shirt and flung it behind him so it landed on the rack. "How do you expect me to focus when you do that?" he asked, gesturing at Derek's toned, sweaty torso.

"That's a little extra challenge," the Alpha replied, hazel eyes twinkling. "Now, focus. the first thing you gotta do it find the balance of the stick...."

\---V---V---

Twenty minutes later found Stiles latched onto Derek's back, legs clenched around his waist and stick pressed against his collar bone, effectivley caging the Alpha in. However, what Stiles had neglected to remember, was that you should _never_ cage a wild animal. Derek bucked forward and dislodged Stiles, sending him flying foward over his shoulders. But Stiles legs were so tightly clamped around Derek's waist that, as they fell to the ground, Stiles rolled them so he landed on top, Derek's waist pinned down with his knee and stick pressed against his throat.

"That enough focus, for ya?" he asked, dipping down to placed a bite just beneath his stick. Derek let out a low, pleasured growl in response. Through out their duel, the rest of the Pack had come to watch, betting who would win. Kira, Allison, Isaac and Scott had betted against Stiles, whereas Lydia and Peter had backed him up. Derek huffed a laugh and hit the ground twice with a free hand, tapping out, as money changed hands. As Stiles rose there were claps and he did a dramatic bow while Derek pretended to scowl at him.

"You picked that up faster than anything else I've seen today," Lydia said critically, tapping her chin with a painted fingernail. "Derek, keep working with him on it. This could be your type of fighting." With that, she turned on her heel and walked back to the shade of her tree, taking out her laptop and typing furiously. Aiden followed her and looked over her shoulder, leaving Ethan all by his lonesome.

"Let's do that again," Stiles said, a little winded, as Derek stood up, brushing off his jeans. Expertly, the wolf twisted his stick within his hands, making it become a blur and making Stiles eyes hurt. "Yeah, yeah, ok, Mr Showoff. Two can play at that game," he said. Dropping his stick, Stiles reached over his shoulder to grab the collar of his shirt and tugged it over his head, tossing it behind him. It was too hot inside his t-shirt, and it was sticking to him uncomfortably in places. Also, now was not the time to be self-concious. Allison and Kira both let out low whistles in unison, eyes fixed on the defined abs that Stiles was sporting. Isaac gaped on, while Scott moved forward and poked at them.

"Man, are those real?" he asked, gawping and running a finger down the middle of them. Stiles' muscles quivered and he slapped Scott's hand away.

"No, they're not Scott. I airbrushed them on this morning because I've been planning to take my shirt off all day," he said, picking up his stick and balancing it. Looking over at Derek, who was now breathing heavily and fighting back the red tinge forming in his eyes, he smirked. "Bring it on, Alpha," he said, attacking.

The rest of the afternoon passed with the sound of grunts, burgers on the barbeque, and Stiles singing 'I'll Make A Man Outta You' from Mulan off-key.


	4. "There's No Pain, Derek"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Derek gets all Alpha-y...

Stiles and Chris were in the Argent's office, the teenager watching Chris unlock his armoury and reveal an array of weaponry packed in among spongy reinforcements. "You're gonna need one of these," Chris said, holding it out to Stiles a G42, his hand around the neck , offering him the handle. "Glock 42, automatic, 10 bullet clip," he introduced, watching Stiles eject the clip, inspect it, and slam it back in with the back of his hand. He'd been given a crash course on how to deal with his guns by his father, and his aim was almost as perfect as most of the deputies in the department. He turned the safety on and slipped it into the waistband of his jeans at the back, glad he'd worn a slightly tighter pair that day. Chris grunted in approval and hauled another box out of the cupboard. It was smaller than the others, but no less intimidating in it's army-grade casing. The box clicked open to reveal two pairs of Chinese ring daggers, the blades shining lightly in the dim light that came through the netted window. Stiles swallowed heavily and his Adam's Apple bobbed. "I take it you've seen them before?" Chris asked.

Stiles nodded. "Yeah, I've seen Allison use them once or twice," he said, remembering seeing the fading cuts on Isaac's back after Allison had attacked him.

"Allison doesn't use them anymore, not after what she did to Isaac when Gerard was here," Chris said, taking one out and giving it an expert flick. It cart-wheeled in the air before landing daintily in his palm, the leather handle comfortable in his grip. He offered it out to Stiles, who took one look at it and raised an eyebrow at the Hunter.

"You really think I'm a good match with a knife?" he asked. He was surprised when Chris disagreed with him. Pushing the knife towards him, Chris waited for Stiles to take it before he talked.

"With your ADHD, you're naturally quick with your movements. When you flail, you can control yourself to make your movements precise enough to wield this blade. It's easier than the katana because it's shorter and you need a stronger grip," he said. "Isaac told me what happened." A little smile tugged at the corners of his mouth, and Stiles fixed him with a murderous look.

"How do you even know I'm gonna be good with this? I could be terrible at this!" Stiles said, giving the knife a little twist into the air. To his surprise, he caught it and a grin spread across his face.

"I think I know you're gonna be good with that, and that's why we're going to the loft to train," Chris said. Stiles placed the dagger back in the case and closed it, the clips popping closed.

\---V---V---

Derek was sitting on the table in his loft, reading a book, when he heard two pairs of boots approach the door and Stiles' scent seep under the door. Scott and Kira were sitting on the bed in the corner, Kira pointing at the pages of a book to Scott, who's brow was furrowed so deep Derek was sure it was deeper than the Mariana Trench. Isaac and Allison were nowhere to be found, and Lydia was out on the fire escape with her laptop and Aiden, researching until her fingers bled. When the door to the loft opened, Derek's senses were flooded with his Mate and he leapt off the table and pulled him to him. He buried his face in Stiles' neck and his chest rumbled in pleasure. Stiles chuckled and ran a hand over Derek's back.

"Hey there, Alpha mine," he said, turning his head so he could plant a kiss in the mass of hair behind Derek's ear. He could feel Derek's scent wash all over him, and Derek could feel Stiles' scent sink into his skin, marking him.

"I missed you," he grumbled, scratching his stubble against Stiles' neck, no doubt leaving behind an angry, red rash. Stiles wiggled his way out and straightened his t-shirt, rucked up a little by Derek's wandering hands.

"You saw me a few hours ago," he said, smirking. An awkward cough from Chris brought them both back, and Stiles turned to see him holding up the case with the daggers and gesturing at them with his eyes. Stiles pointed gun fingers at it and said, "Yes, that's what we came for." Turning back around to Derek, he put on his bet puppy eyes. "Dereeeek? Can we use the training-"

He didn't even finish the sentence before Derek was heading towards the stairs in the corner of the loft that lead to the training room upstairs to go get the training mats.

\---V---V---

Derek was on Chris before Stiles could cry out, "Wait!"

"Derek, get off me!" Chris grunted, pushing against the Alpha's shoulders with his hands, the blood-covered blade still in his hand. The handle was starting to bite into his palm, and he could feel the heat already building up under the leather. Derek growled at him, eyes bleeding red and fangs elongating.

"You hurt my Mate," he growled, pushing his weight further down on the human. He gnashed his fangs at him, mimicking an animal in attack mode.

"Stiles, get him off me!" Chris said, trying to get his knees up under the werewolf so he'd have some leverage, but he couldn't- Derek was too heavy. Scott had begun to rise from his position beside Kira, ready to step in, but Kira held his wrist and pulled him back, warning him how dangerous it could be if he interfered. Scott conceded and sank back down, leaning closer to the kitsune.

"Derek! Derek, get off Chris right now. He didn't hurt me!" Stiles said, running over to the tussling pair, crouching down by their heads and resting a hand on Derek's head. The Alpha's attack seemed to lessen at the contact, his weight lifting slightly, and Chris took the chance to finally pull his knees up and push Derek off with all his strength. The wolf slapped against the padded mat and was suddenly back on all fours, ready to pounce. Stiles put himself in between them. "Derek, he didn't hurt me," Stiles repeated, ignoring the warm feeling on his right arm.

"You're bleeding," Derek gritted out, eyes fixed on the blade in Chris' hand. Stiles looked down at the inch-long scarlet line on the inside of his arm. A thin trickle of blood dripped from one end, nearly reaching his wrist. Overall, it didn't hurt. There was just a warm feeling.

"I may be, but I'm not hurt. I don't feel any pain, Derek," he said. He dropped down onto his knees and took Derek's face in his hands, and immediatley the red flowed from his eyes. "There's no pain, Derek," he said, running his thumb over his stubble. Derek leaned into the touch, head falling forward, and Stiles pressed a kiss onto his furrowed brow.

"I'm sorry, Stiles. I didn't mean to get you," Chris apologised. Derek's head snapped up and he growled, but he stopped when Stiles fixed him with a stern look.

"That's ok, Chris," he said, looking back at the Hunter.

"I know you might not want to hear this, Derek, but this but hurting Stiles could have a positive side," Chris said, and Stiles threw himself at Derek's chest as Derek rose from the floor and advanced on Chris, a snarl on his lips.

"You might wanna explain before Derek rips you to pieces, Chris!" Stiles said, clinging onto Derek.


	5. Marks For You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chris gives Stiles a fashion tip, and Derek has only one condition....

In the end, Derek didn't rip Chris to shreds. Stiles had calmed him down enough for him to sit down, pulling his human into his lap and encircling him with warm arms. The red eyes, however, stayed. Chris was leaning against the wall opposite them, far enough out of reach to avoid Derek's claws if he made a swipe. Kira and Scott had cleared out a few minutes before, talking about heading to get something to eat. Lydia and Aiden had joined them, Lydia's stomach rumbling in agreement through her shirt.

"When you meet the Defang, they're already going to believe you're a Hunter, considering what ever back story Lydia creates for you. That means you would have already been in a few fights, and coming after us won't be your first rodeo. With the level of skill you show right now, it would be expected of you to have a few wounds," Chris said, and Stiles rubbed at the gauze that covered a small area of his inner forearm. Derek's hand covered his, and his veins turned grey, drawing away the last of Stiles' pain. "When the time comes for you to go with them, you will have to train with them- it'll be inevitable- and they will undoubtedly have to see your wounds."

"Can't we ask Lydia to do some authentic-looking prosthetics?" Stiles asked, not exactly looking forward to the prospect of more bodily injury. He sighed and leant against Derek at Chris's shaking head.

"How much injury are we talking?" Derek asked. His voice was still low, but the red in his eyes was fading, leaving them to the shade of green Stiles could write really crappy poetry about. Chris shrugged.

"A few cuts and scratches here and there," he said. That didn't sound too bad to Stiles, but from the rumbling in Derek's chest, he could figure out he still wasn't happy. In the awkward silence that followed, Chris's phone rang with Allison's number, calling him home. Taking the still-bloody knife off the floor and putting it back in its case, he nodded them both goodbye and left the loft. They sat with each other for a few moments in the quiet, taking in the sounds of each other's heartbeats.

"I want to be the one to do it," Derek said suddenly, and Stiles looked at him, brow raised in confusion. "If you have to be scarred, I want to be the one to do it. So I know that the person who did it, did it out of love and not violence." He buried his face in Stiles' hair, enjoying the warmth and the smell of his shampoo. He could hear Stiles' heartbeat quicken.

"Ok," Stiles said, voice a little rough. "If we want them to heal before the week after next, you know we have to do it now, right?" He felt Derek nod into his hair, and he slipped through Derek's arms, standing up and stretching out his hands for Derek to grab. Once he was up, hands still enclosed in Stiles', he asked,

"Where are we going?"

"We're going to your bed, where you're going to strip me, lay me down, and have your wicked way with me while making me look like someone who's actual won a few fights," Stiles said, and he captured Derek's lips in a filthy kiss. Derek's qualms flew out of the window at the heady scent if Stiles' arousal and his taste, growling against his bottom lip and tugging it between his teeth. Stiles' fingers raked through his hair, yanking on the thick strands lightly. This made Derek growl harder, and he hooked his arms under Stiles' thighs, picking him up and striding to his bed, Stiles breathing heavily against his lips in anticipation. "I love it when you do that," Stiles breathed, running his hands around Derek's neck, watching the green slowly transform into red. Derek grinned wolfishly, canines just starting to protrude. "And I love that even more." With a rumbling laugh, the Alpha dropped his Mate on the bed, leaning over him with one hand supporting him, the other rucking up Stiles' t-shirt, exposing the pale, smooth flesh of lightly defined abs. He felt the muscles under the soft, warm skin quiver in anticipation, and he couldn't help the wolfish grin that sprung up.

"Get this off," he grunted, tugging on the hem, and Stiles happily obliged, excited to have Derek's large hands on him once again.

"You can always take something off, ya know," he replied, and Derek all but ripped his shirt off to please his Mate. A low growl rumbled out of his throat as Stiles' mouth made a wet path across his abs, and it became louder when his lips closed around his nipple, giving it a small suck. Derek slid his hands into Stiles' hair and squeezed slightly, and he felt Stiles smile against his skin. "We need to be a hell of a lot more naked than we are now," he breathed against Derek's skin, and he felt the nipple harden under the cool air. They both shucked off their trousers as fast as they could, leaving their underwear on and dragging themselves further up the bed, hands still on each other. Stiles could feel the tips of Derek's claws prod his skin, and he shivered, the heightened sensation of slight pain made him whimper. "I need so much more," he said, tugging Derek's head down and fastening their lips together. Derek growled into the kiss and dragged his lips down over Stiles' chin, his neck, his torso, until he got to the waistband of Stiles' Batman briefs, teasing the elastic with a claw until Stiles whined with impatience. Yanking the black material down, Stiles' cock sprung up and slapped its owner's abdomen wetly. The werewolf didn't hesitate at all as he closed his mouth around Stiles' cock, and the boy sent up a cry of surprised pleasure, head tilting back and neck straining against the black sheets. The only light coming in were the last rays of the dying sun, moonlight already beginning to mingle with it, leaving Derek's face in shadow. In the dark, two scarlet orbs flickered open and closed, sometimes rolling back at the taste of pure, human pleasure.

His whole body felt hot, some bits more than others, as if ribbons of fire were being wrapped around his limbs. Derek's mouth was hot on his wet skin, the smell of sex already overpowering to his human senses, so he wondered what it must be like for Derek, who was right at the source. A few swipes of a dextrous tongue underneath the crown of his cock had Stiles whimpering warnings to Derek that he was about to cum, and a few seconds later he let out a silent cry as he came with bursts that filled Derek's mouth. Derek kept him in his mouth until he was spent and limp before letting him go, sliding his way up Stiles' lithe body to kiss him, their torsos rubbing over each other. "That enough for you?" he teased in Stiles' ear, tugging on the earlobe gently and revelling in the feeling of Stiles tremble beneath him. Running one of his fingers through the cum beginning to cool on his stomach, Derek circled Stiles' pucker, pressing gently. The muscle accepted the finger easily, and Derek pushed his Mate's hair back from his forehead as he sighed and moaned, teasing,

"Such a greedy boy, aren't you Stiles?"

"You giant...muscled...fucker...you..." Stiles said between gasps, his body easily accepting another of Derek's fingers, and then a third one. By that he was a quivering mess, a pulsing, pleasurable burn in his arse that made his heart beat faster and his lips go dry. Derek's tongue seemed to remedy the last. He was as limp as a rag doll as Derek manoeuvred him on the bed just the right way for him, and he wrapped his legs around Derek's waist and tugged as the Alpha leant on his knees, falling forward and catching himself with his hand on the bed above Stiles' broad shoulder.

"Okay?" Derek asked, voice husky, as he wrapped a supporting hand around his cock and nudged at Stiles' entrance. He couldn't hold back the grin that spread across his face at Stiles' far-too enthusiastic nod. Pressing his face into the crook of Stiles' neck, he pushed forward gently, guided by Stiles' moans and whimpers, until he bottomed-out. He would never forget how perfect Stiles' consuming heat was, yet it seemed to be better every time he made love to him.

"Jesus Christ Derek, you're so big!" his Mate breathed, hands tightening on Derek's skin, just so Derek could feel the prick of dull nails digging in.

"You need to stop quoting porn, Stiles. It's not doing anything," he grumbled into the warm skin, giving it an affectionate nip with his teeth. Stiles' groaned and bucked up, Derek shifting inside him and making him whine.

"Speaking of not doing anything..." he said, rolling his hips, and Derek's breath caught in his throat. He started to piston his hips slowly, but gradually getting faster, using Stiles' scent and sounds as a gauge as to what he should do. Stiles' all but yelled out loud when Derek's cock caught his prostate as his tongue laved at one of his nipples, making it puffy and sensitive.

"Fuck, the noises you make, Stiles," Derek grunted against Stiles' lips, sounding broken as all his concentration went in his quickening hips. He felt harder than he had ever been, and the noises Stiles made as his cock received friction from both their sets of abs didn't help at all. "I'm close, Stiles. I'm so close," Derek said, a white-hot ball twisting under his skin, stretching out tendrils that snaked along his nerves. Quick as a flash, Derek used his super strength to flip them over, catching Stiles before he careened off of his body and onto the bed, using his hands to help guide him up and down on his cock. Stiles' rhythm was erratic, the feeling of being so full and his skin on fire making him lose concentration. He could feel the pricks of Derek's claws against the small of his back, and it set something off inside him.

"Shit, Derek- mark me! Please! I need you to make me your's! _Pleasepleasepleaseplease_!" he babbled, head thrown back and exposing his neck. Derek's eyes burned scarlet, and Stiles came the exact moment Derek's claws dug in and sliced. Pain and pleasure flashed down his back, and he wouldn't lie, but he _howled_. There was no other way to describe the noise that was ripped from the back of his throat. Derek growled as he came, the scent of Stiles' cum over the two of them and the sheets, along with the tang of blood had him slamming as deep as he could into his Mate as he filled him. He was still thrusting until Stiles whimpered for him to stop. He was too sensitive. Derek carefully manhandled Stiles onto the bed beside him, listening to his rapid heartbeat. Stiles felt drowsy with exertion, but Derek wouldn't let him lay down.

'I need you to keep sitting up. I need to see what I've done," he said softly, prodding carefully at the skin on Stiles' sides and back. He moved around behind Stiles, the mattress wobbling beneath them as their weight shifted.

"I love it when you make me orgasm," Stiles mumbled, head slipping back and landing on Derek's shoulder, giving Derek a perfect view of the profile of his jawline. The teen sighed happily when Derek pressed a soft kiss on the thick hair behind his ear. He added a little pressure to the middle of Stiles' back with all ten fingertips, pushing the boy forward a little so he could inspect his back. Spanning almost the entire width of his back were four bloody lines, not deep enough to bleed heavily, but deep enough to scar and weep blood. Small trickles leaked from the ends, making trails towards the black bedsheets pooling around Stiles' waist. Derek, if he was a sick person, would've written poetry about the contrast, but he decided then was not the time.

"Stiles, does it hurt?" Derek asked, pressing lightly on the pale skin just under the cuts. Stiles whined and leaned his head back. His eyes were closed, lashes fanning across his cheekbones.

"I think you broke my ass, Derek," he grumbled, and Derek chuckled in his ear.

"Does it hurt?" he asked again. Stiles opened his eyes, molten gold staring up at Derek. His sinful mouth was open, head still tilted back.

"Marking never hurts," he said, eyes never leaving Derek's. Twisting him by his shoulders, Derek crashed his lips against Stiles' in a hot, passionate kiss. The teen knew all the right things to say to the werewolf, and listening to his heartbeat told him the boy wasn't lying. He could taste the faint traces of himself on the boy's tongue, and that made the kiss even hotter. He pulled away slightly, catching sight of the stubble burn on Stiles' creamy skin and his blown-wide pupils.

"You can't say things like that to me, Stiles. I'll want to keep you with me in bed all the time, the Defang be damned," he said, voice husky against the bruised skin of Stiles' lips. A little bubble of laughter escaped Stiles, and his mouth twitched into a happy grin.

"That doesn't sound like such a bad thing," he said, and Derek groaned. Mustering up every ounce of restraint he had, he picked himself up off the bed and pulled Stiles off with him, carrying him bridal-style to the bathroom. He sat Stiles down on the toilet while he dug up the medical kit from under the sink, pawing through it until he found the large rolls of bandages he was searching for.

"You're gonna need to stand up for this, and lean against the counter, stomach first," he said, unrolling the bandages and looking for the scissors. A smirk tugged at the corner of Stiles' mouth, and he ran a hand through his hair, tousling his sex hair even more.

"Love it when you give me orders," he said, leaning his elbows on the counter, he curved his back, ass sticking out perkily. "This good enough for you, chief?" Derek looked over his shoulder at him, taking everything in, right from his shit-eating grin to the dark freckles on the light pink skin of his behind. Placing his large hands on Stiles' hips, he pushed down so Stiles was standing straight, and Stiles watched in excitement as Derek sank to his knees behind him, hands stroking over the still-sensitive skin. He shivered when Derek started pressing feather-light kisses against the skin just beneath the cuts, and he bit his lip to contain the small whine that almost escaped his lips when Derek pressed his lips to the cuts. Almost immediately, the throbbing that emanated from them stopped, and he found himself standing a little straighter. He went a few more moments of it before tugging Derek back up and handing him the now cut bandages which were laying in front of him. "So you've got magic kisses then, huh?" he asked, a little smile forming. Derek's face went all soft, a smile lifting his stubble.

"They can only take away some of the pain, though," he said, as if he wasn't happy about that. They stood so close to each other as Derek wrapped the bandages around Stiles' naked torso, so close that they could smell each other and share body heat. Derek liked the smell of post-coital Stiles; cum, Derek, and a sweet pheromone that Derek liked to think of as contentment. He fixed the tight bandages in place with tape, before linking his fingers over Stiles' stomach and placing kisses up and down his neck, catching freckles and moles with his tongue, and nuzzling his ears with his nose.

"I'm not sure about you, but I get pretty tired after amazing, pack-saving sex like that," Stiles said, punctuating his words with a yawn and stretching his arms above his head before bringing them down to link behind Derek's neck. They looked at themselves in the bathroom mirror; Derek's skin still glistening with sweat and his lips painted red where he'd kissed away Stiles' blood, and Stiles' body being littered with light scratches he hadn't noticed before and love bites. Stiles' pale thigh lay back against Derek's tanned one, and he could see a little hint of hair poking out from behind his hipbone. Stiles tilted his head back so he could press a soft kiss to Derek's cheek before wiggling out of his arms and heading back to the bed, stretching out on the sheets on his front and slipping his arms under the pillow before huffing happily. The werewolf followed him and lay down beside him, throwing one arm cautiously across his back and slipping one leg in between Stiles'. Burying his face in Stiles' hair, Derek fell asleep completely safe and comfortable.


End file.
